Crossfire
by PinkSandals
Summary: A man is shot 12 times in a parking lot, and while Sara investigates, a suspect returns to the scene and shoots the police officer on site. Bullets from both crimes match the one that killed Eddie Willows.
1. I'll be fine

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI or any of the characters.

Catherine handed Lindsey $20 before rushing out the door to a scene.

"I love you sweetie! See you tonight. Remember, Grandma won't be home so you can heat up the stir fry from last night, 'k?" she instructed as she put on her jacket and locked the door behind her. Lindsey stood in the foyer frowning at the prospect of leftovers yet again. If her dad were still around, he'd take her out for dinner at a nice restaurant with one of his friends. She knew he was a bad influence. She knew her mom was right. But she liked the rebellious life he offered her. And she missed him. She tucked the $20 dollars in her jeans pocket and headed for her room to listen to loud music or something. Who knew.

Catherine sped through traffic to the shooting downtown. As she approached the yellow tape, the officer on site, Officer Jensen, lifted the tape for her. A moment later, she spotted Sara scanning the ground. So much for going solo. Sara saw her and came over.

"Hey Cath!" she piped, "I'm looking for the shell casings. This guy was shot 12 times. Can you even believe what some people do to each other?" Sara continued babbling as Catherine joined her in scanning the parking lot. After an hour, they'd found all but one.

"If I see another yellow line I am going to explode!" Catherine muttered. "Let's pack it up. We've gotta get back ," she said to Sara. She wasn't fazed.

"No, I'll stay. It's here somewhere," Sara assured her. Catherine put her kit in the trunk of her car and drove away. Sara crouched to the ground to look for the one missing casing.

"Just don't forget to sleep, hun!" Catherine yelled as she drove away. Sara laughed and pointed her flashlight underneath a car. No luck. Sleep was the last thing on her mind. Officer Jensen came over.

"Any luck?" She asked, crouching down to Sara's level.

"Nope. Are you sure David said 12 bulletholes?" Sara asked. Officer Jensen nodded.

"I'm sure. The guy was like hamburger though, he could have miscounted. One could've ricocheted…" She suggested. Sara sighed. "But I need to get home, my daughter got her learner's permit and I promised to take her driving, you're done here then?" Officer Jensen asked. Sara didn't know.

"No, it's okay. You go. I'll be fine here." Sara promised, showing the officer her gun to ensure her safety. "I'll be fine," she repeated adamantly. Officer Jensen smiled and headed to her car on the other side of the parking lot. Sara stood up and caught a glimpse of something. Before she could react, gunshots rattled the cold night air. She ducked behind the closest parked car and drew her weapon. 'Where's Jensen?'Sara thought, as she looked across the lot to where Officer Jensen was lying, in a pool of blood. Everything happened so fast. Catherine hadn't left that long ago, could she get a hold of her? Thoughts raced through her head. She heard running footsteps and suddenly a black figure ran from across the street to where Officer Jensen was. She saw the gun. She was still hidden from the suspect's view. She took aim and shot.


	2. Positive Match

Disclaimer: I am a pathetic loser who does not for the LAST time own CSI or the characters of CSI!

Officer Jensen's lifeless body lay under a white tarp. Beside hers, another mound covered in a similar tarp was the man Sara shot. Ambulances, police cars and people were gathered around the scene already taped off. Sara was sitting in an ambulance with a blanket around her shoulders, observing everything with a blank stare.

Catherine had just returned. She pulled up to the congregation, turned off the engine and rushed over to her colleague who she abandoned not 20 minutes ago. As she passed by the new scene, she gathered the aftermath in a terribly shaken awe.

"God, Sara… what happened?" Catherine sputtered. Sara just shook her head in denial as a tear crept out of her eye. Catherine sat down beside her and gave her a comforting hug, simply glad she was alive.

"Cat…" whispered Sara after a moment, "Cat, I… I shot someone." Catherine glanced at the body bags.

"You did what anyone else would've done. You did all you could," she assured the broken Sara, "I always thought you were a tough cookie…" she added.

"No… no, I didn't Cat… she's dead. She's dead and I killed someone. I didn't do all I could've done…" Sara said through tears. She got up and went to the side of the ambulance facing away from the incident. Leaning on the side, she continued; "If I'd just used my head I could've saved her. I saw him coming, then she was on the ground and I saw his gun and I shot." She paused, "two people lost their lives… all for a stupid casing…" Sara muttered.

"You can't blame yourself," Catherine said, "it just makes things worse."

"And this… this could get worse?" Sara challenged, "how can you live… having killed someone, Cath?"

"I had to save Grissom's ass, that's why," she said. Sara let a small burst of laughter through her tears.

The lab had become gloomy. People avoided discussing the incident even though it was on everyone's minds. Sara and Greg sat in silence as ballistics ran the bullet through the database.

"You sure you're okay?" Greg asked, breaking the silence. Sara didn't answer. The printer jerked to life and started printing out the results. Sara took the page and scanned it over. Her eyes grew wide and she took off. Greg scampered after her.

In the hallway, Sara met up with Catherine. She handed her the paper.

"We have a new lead," she reported. Catherine looked happy and worried at the same time. "Shot from the same gun that killed your husband." Sara said, lifelessly.

"Thanks, Sara." Catherine said. But something else had caught Sara's attention. Catherine looked, and at the end of the hall, Brass had just met with the dead officer's family. She'd had three kids. The hallway practically froze in silent mourning. Then, Sara abruptly turned and left.

"Hey," he said casually. Sara felt safe in Grissom's office. She sat down. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded. "You ready to talk?"

"That's not why I'm here," she said. Grissom shifted in his seat awkwardly.

"What is it you'd like?" he asked, playing along. He expected a long pause.

"I quit," Sara said without hesitation.


	3. Lindsey Tells All

The streetlights made the sidewalk an awful green colour. Moths and bugs stupidly hovered around the intoxicating glow. Marijuana hung in the air thickly. Nobody was there, but there was evidence of a former congregation not long ago. A shadow ran across the brick walls of a building.

Rounding a corner into a dark alley, Lindsey Willows hugged her jacket tight around her and coughed at the stench of the drug. Trying to hold her breath while walking through the lane, she started to run when she spotted the lights of the street again. It was 8 o'clock. She looked at her watch twice, first for the time and then to think. If she were home by ten, nobody would know. And she'd already made the call anyways; it wasn't her fault she wasn't there. So technically she wouldn't get in trouble. She felt compelled to intervene after seeing it on the news.

Sara sat on her bed reading a thick book. The pages were brittle and yellowed, and made a crackly noise when they turned, instead of the swoopy sound they make when they are new. She was wrapped up in whatever the book was about, because she didn't hear the doorbell ring the first time.

She looked through the spyhole. It was Grissom. She really didn't want to open the door. She wasn't in the mood to talk, she wasn't in the mood to think, and she wasn't in the mood to work. She didn't want to associate herself with the shooting of an officer. She silently crept into the kitchen and sat down on the floor. There, she was surrounded by cabinets and the wall of the living room so Grissom wouldn't see her if he looked in the window. The phone rang. She didn't want to answer it, that would be stupid. The machine got it. Sara listened to hear who it was and to make a note to call them back.

"Sara…" Grissom's voice echoed from outside and from the answering machine. Sara just rolled her eyes. Picking up the receiver, she calmly said:

"Grissom, I really REALLY don't want to talk. I'm okay, I just need… some me time…" Outside, Grissom paced.

"I don't want you to quit, Sara. You're a good CSI." He assured her. Memories of the shooting shot themselves through Sara's mind. She shuddered.

"What you want and what I want are two very different things, Grissom. I want to quit and I did. Right now, I care about Officer Jensen and I don't want to be associated with what happened… yet." Sara said angrily. Grissom started to say something, but she cut him off. "Please, just leave me alone," She said sternly. "Or I will move and have my phone number changed and I will have you introduced to a TRO I'm serious, Grissom, LEAVE ME ALONE!" Sara shouted into the phone. She threw the receiver into the phone bed and sat on the kitchen floor, crying. Grissom stalled outside, feeling rather hurt and glum. But, he realised, he was acting kind of stalkerish. He turned into the night and walked to his car. He had more business to settle.

Lindsey sat on the curb outside an ugly brick building, across the park from the lot where the officer was shot. The scene she'd seen on the news. It might've been then she'd realised how dangerous her mother's work was. She saw her on the news running to an ambulance.

8:23.

She was getting a little scared now. The part of town wasn't exactly a nice one, and a homeless man was wheeling his shopping cart over to her and she didn't want him to smell her fear so she avoided eye contact. He passed by, eyeing her, and she shifted uncomfortably. It was definitely getting colder. The wind picked up and blew strands of blonde out of her messy ponytail. She wished she'd brought more than just a sweatshirt. The homeless man started singing and he still looked at her menacingly. He and his shopping cart clattered on. Headlight beams lit up a tree across from Lindsey. Finally! She thought. The dark blue truck pulled up and she ran over.

Sara wandered aimlessly through her kitchen, waiting for water to boil for her tea. She'd forgotten about her book. Now, because of Grissom's feeble attempt at convincing her to come back, she could only think of the shooting. The moment she saw the figure run out from the alley by that old, ugly brick building into the lights of the street was running through her head. Over and over. Like when CD's skip and one cannot find the stop button. She paced. She became profoundly angry, then scared. Then angry again. Cold rushed over her, even though it was warm in her house. Then she started sweating cold sweat. She clenched her teeth and her fists. Blood trickled from her palms as her nails dug into them. She started to cry again. Sitting down was doing nothing, so she stood up. But then, feeling vulnerable, she sat down again. This time on her couch. She fell into an uneasy sleep.

As Lindsey climbed into the passenger seat, Grissom pulled a blanket from the back and wrapped her up in it. He started driving. Lindsey looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn't quite choose the words.

"Lindsey? When you called, your mom was in the field. Do you want me to take you to her?" Grissom asked, although it would have been just as easy for the girl to have phoned her mom on her cell phone, so the question seemed redundant. Lindsey shook her head.

"No," she paused, "Um, Sir? Mr. Grissom… I want to tell you… or someone. Not my mom, but someone… about something I saw today at school," Lindsey said.

"You can tell me," Grissom said, curious.

"And I think I know who got shot…" She added, like she'd just remembered. Grissom frowned in confusion. He knew the time Lindsey had been caught hitchhiking, it was around here somewhere, and this place was known for drugs. Was that cute kid in his passenger seat old enough to even know what drugs were? He wondered.

"Is it someone you know?" Grissom asked, like he already knew the answer. Lindsey looked at him with horror. Kind of exactly like Catherine did when he asked her if Lindsey was doing drugs.

"NO!" She said, like he was another kid who called her a boy. "I just heard something, that's all. At school. This kid, his name is Vince Starr," She said, making sure he was listening, "Like the Beatle!" she added. Grissom smiled.

"Was he the one who said something?" Grissom asked her, thankful it didn't have to do with her and drugs at least.

"Yep," Lindsey said. "He said the creepiest thing. See, I was in the bathroom and there is a gap from the wall to the ceiling in between the girl's and boy's bathrooms, so he was in the boy's bathroom and I heard him. He was talking to another kid, and he said he was going to kill his brother, who is a drug dealer. He's like into GHB and stuff like that. I know this, because I hear things, Mister, people talk, okay? I don't do any of that…" She said, seeing Grissom's scandalous look of reaction to her knowledge of date-rape drugs. "But," she continued, "it was shockingly detailed, how he explained this to this other kid. I mean, he said where his gun was, that he could lift it from his brother's car, and how he would shoot him right between the eyes, and that his brother killed this guy when he was high and he deserved to die…" Lindsey explained.

Grissom found it shocking to hear such barbaric things coming from the mouth of such a sweet and innocent-looking kid. It was also shocking to hear her describe with such precision how the young man was shot. But Grissom still needed this story confirmed by evidence and as he pulled up in front of Catherine's house, he thought it terrifying that Lindsey didn't seem that disturbed.


	4. 3 am

"Catherine!" Grissom called, as she passed by in the hallway. She stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Lindsey has a lot of information for us… I just spoke with her…" He said, not sure how to explain.

"What? Where is she?" She asked, checking her phone to see five missed calls.

"She called the crime lab and I told her you were out, and she said she saw what happened on the news and wanted to speak with me, she said she was across the street from the scene, I thought she shouldn't be out there, I went and found her, and she told me a lot of disturbingly accurate things…" Grissom said, scared for Catherine's reaction. She just frowned.

"Oh… well, thanks Gil." Catherine said, slightly confused, "I'll go talk to her when I get home… shift ends in fifteen… um… how's Sara?" Catherine asked.

"Well, she quit. But otherwise she's… depressed?" Grissom said, unsure. Catherine gave an expression of sadness.

"Poor girl…" She said, "Well, give her time alone… I'm sure she'll gather herself," Catherine suggested. "Gotta go… talk to you later?" and she left.

* * *

"Linds?… LINDSEY!" Catherine called, as she opened the front door. The little girl appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey!" Catherine said, putting her coat away.

"Mom, it's three in the morning!" Lindsey complained, descending the stairs.

"Yeah, and we need to talk…" Catherine said, heading to the kitchen. Lindsey followed her.

"Mom… I know a lot more than you think I do, so don't be all … 'mom' about it…" Lindsey warned. Catherine sat down at the table, and Lindsey fell into a chair across from her. "About dad," she added.

"Well… I'm not that surprised, hun. Tell me what you told Grissom… I didn't have enough time to really talk to him about it," She told her daughter. Lindsey rolled her eyes.

"Mom you never have time. That's why we are here now, in the middle of the night, talking." She spat. Catherine told herself to be patient.

* * *

Sara woke up to the kettle whistling. She never remembered falling asleep. She rushed over before the water boiled over and poured herself a cup of tea. Returning to the couch, she turned on the TV to see the scene-that-must-not-be-named plastered across the screen. She desperately tried to change the channel. It was 3 am. What was on? White noise? She turned the TV off, and went to bed. Seeing her book, she picked it up and found her place. She got comfortable and sat there, reading. 


	5. Nominated

"The first victim's name is Lance McCarthy, cause of death was multiple gunshot wounds to the head," Catherine announced to the team, sans Grissom, in the layout room. "We ID'd him from his fingerprints," she said. "Anyways, he's 22 years old, no fixed address… just P.O boxes. He does… in fact have a car and a cell phone, and… three… years ago, he was arrested for carrying a concealed weapon. Which, was registered to him…" she added, referring to a sheet of paper. She displayed hers and Sara's crime scene pictures. Nick, Greg, and Warrick were stunned.

"Woah… that's what?" Nick checked the coroner's report, "ELEVEN shots in the head," he said in amazement.

"Crime of passion?" Greg suggested.

"What calibre gun does he own?" Warrick wondered.

"Wait, guys. Woah hold up… the SECOND victim… well the shooter… he, well…" Catherine struggled to choose the nicest words to describe a police officer's demise. "Officer Jensen was shot with this weapon," she said, extracting a .22 from the evidence box, and placed it on the table. "What we should want to know is a… that are the two victims related, and b… did this gun do all the damage… the other gun involved was of course… Sara's, and it's right here," she said, as her words entered taboo territory.

They left eagerly. Catherine of course knew very well the answer to both her questions. The two were most likely related, and the shooter was probably watching her and Sara and Jensen the entire time. He returned to the scene, only to meet his end. He shot both Lance McCarthy and Officer Jensen. Catherine was sure of it. The question was now, how was he related to Lance, and… if the gun used in the second shooting was indeed the same one that killed Eddie, and Lance, was this a new lead into his case? Was it also just a coincidence that Lance's arrest for carrying a concealed weapon was three years ago, the same time her ex husband was killed? And that the calibre bullet was the same? Catherine thought the only coincidence in this case was that Lindsey went to school with The Shooter, supposedly a Vince Starr. For now, this information was hush until they confirmed it.

Catherine was in the evidence vaults, looking for Eddie's case. A sad, lonely box that went cold three years earlier.

_I've got two liars and no murder weapon!_

Yeah, that's about all she had, Catherine thought, remembering being a little harsh on Sara, whose brilliance wouldn't kill the lies that time. She probably had to go talk to Sara. And the question was making her blood boil.

Why was Lance's arrest not included in Eddie's case? Was it a mistake on Sara's part? Or did the arresting officer not know to document it based upon the at-the-time current murder investigation. She looked at Lance's rap sheet again. An Officer Bailey. She'd never heard of him.

* * *

Nick and Warrick were waiting for the DNA results, and Greg came running from ballistics.

"The bullets match!" He exclaimed, out of breath. Before anyone could reply, he added, "and why did Sara quit?" he asked, bewildered. It seemed to be news to them all.

"What?"

"What?"

Greg looked at them. "Hey, don't… no… I didn't know either…" he said. All three were stunned.

"I… I can't believe… she didn't! How does a workaholic just quit?" Nick wondered, stuttering. Warrick and Greg hardly knew.

"She didn't even say goodbye," Warrick said. They were all thinking now.

"Which means," Greg thought, "she was upset."

"Yeah… I mean, she was… Y'know," Nick was trying to say. They all knew what he meant. Sara was the one who shot the cop killer. "But," Nick continued, "did that… really affect her that much?" He asked, he hadn't seen her after that. The only one who did was Greg.

"She seemed… distraught…" Greg mentioned. "But someone like her doesn't just quit. She… you'd think she'd be all out to get-" he stopped. Was Sara out to get the shooter? No, he was dead. She shot him. Maybe they were taking it too far. "Or, she just… quit," he suggested. The others nodded, unsatisfied. They sat there in silence, waiting for the results.

"Someone should at least call her," Nick said finally. Warrick and Greg both agreed. Silence.

"I vote Greg," Warrick said finally.

"Go, Greggo…" Nick said. There was no way out of this one. Greg pretended he wanted to win, and got out his phone.


End file.
